


Written Lore

by Fallowsthorn



Series: Book of Sanguine [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Asexual Character, Gen, Light Bondage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot, Windhelm, Writing, that's meta as fuck oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowsthorn/pseuds/Fallowsthorn
Summary: Sanguine tracks down Sultris Amor.





	Written Lore

It took Sanguine a while to find Sultris Amor, both because he didn’t put a great deal of effort into it, and also because she actually didn’t come across his radar all that much. Either she was the kind of slacker that Sanguine could take lessons from, which was unlikely given how many books he’d seen with her name on them, or she was an incredibly furtive writer.

The next time he found her, she was at home, working on one of her ongoing projects. Unfortunately, she actually owned her house, which made her much more likely than Mikael to call the guards if he simply appeared near her. After weighing what he knew of his attention span against the fact that in Tamriel it was currently two in the morning, he decided to simply skip the intervening time, and wound up at around five in the afternoon, in the Windhelm Stone Quarter.

Sanguine shrugged and made himself a corporeal form in an inconspicuous corner, looking down at it once he’d adjusted to the feeling of needing to breathe. Male, Nord with some possibly Breton ancestry, plain clothing, red hair from what he could see out of the corners of his eyes. Probably generally attractive. Well, he could augment that if he had to, or fix it once he was near something reflective.

Orienting himself among the buildings, he ambled toward the smithy, scanning the crowd for Sultris. He found her trying to get the attention of an Altmer, who was ignoring her in favor of another customer, who happened to be Nordic. Hmm.

He drifted closer, wondering if he should do something to intervene. Sultris sighed, running a hand through her hair and looking around in frustration. She caught sight of Sanguine approaching and closed her eyes briefly, tipping her head up as though praying to the Divines for strength.

As Sanguine neared the stall, the previous customer nodded farewell to the Altmer and left. Throwing a measuring glance Sanguine’s way, Sultris stepped in the merchant’s line of sight and, in one big rush, said, “Excuse me, I need Dragon’s Tongue, Mora Tapinella, and Scaly Pholiota, that’s all. I’m trying to give you money, why won’t-”

She broke off with an exasperated noise as the Altmer once again ignored her for another customer - in this case, Sanguine.

Well, as long as he was put on the spot, he might as well help Sultris out. What did those ingredients all have in common? Oh. He stepped up to the counter, nodding in greeting, and said, “Yes, I’d like as many Elixirs of Illusion as you have.”

The shopkeeper’s face registered surprise, but she nonetheless reached under the counter and pulled out three fat golden flasks. “I trust you have the septims? All two thousand, seven hundred and thirty of them?”

“For three of these? I could make them myself at a sixth of the price. How about a thousand even?”

The Altmer gave him a flat look. “I don’t haggle. If you can make something of this quality yourself, then I encourage you to do so. Otherwise, pay up.”

Well, it had been worth a try. Sanguine reached down to a pack that hadn’t been at his feet earlier and brought out a large bag of coins. After checking to make sure the coins were from the correct era (having made that mistake once before, he wasn’t eager to make it again), he handed it to the shopkeeper along with a silent apology to physics and the local economy. “That should be all of it. There are a few enchantments on the bag, don’t worry.”

She accepted it with a raised eyebrow, but handed him the potions nonetheless. He promptly turned and offered all three to Sultris. “Were you looking for something along these lines?”

Sultris just stared at him, taken aback. Apparently on automatic, she said, “Yes, but - you bought them.”

He gave her a dry look. “The day I need potions to change someone’s mind will be the day I dedicate myself to Dibella. Take them.”

She blinked, once, and did so, slipping them into her bag quickly. "I must be dreaming," she said.

Sanguine shrugged. "If you like. Why?" He motioned in the vague direction of Sultris’s home, to get them away from the marketplace.

Sultris gave him a look of mild disbelief, and started walking alongside Sanguine. "You mean besides the fact that you're a Nord, in Windhelm, and you paid attention to me for something other than a lewd remark?"

"I take offense to that last one," Sanguine said, pretending indignation. "I can come up with plenty of lewd remarks." He winked at the woman, startling her into a cautious smile. 

"Besides that, then," she said. "You're nice enough, and you're new, and sooner or later Rolff or his friends will get to you, and then you won't be either. It was pleasant talking with you, but I really do need to get home before it gets too dark out."

Sanguine pouted, enjoying this character he'd built up. It was fun. "Aw, but I never got to introduce myself," he said, and before the Dunmer could say another word, he stepped into an exaggerated mock bow. "Sam Guevenne, at your service. And of course, your own reputation precedes you..." He looked up, straightening. "...Sultris Amor."

Instantly her demeanor went from amused to shocked. She was only caught off guard for a second, though, before her eyes narrowed and she stepped close to him, taking him by the arm and dragging him out of sight to shove him against the wall. "How do you know that," she spat out, the words flat and low.

Sanguine didn't resist much, willing to see where this was going. "I'm fairly sure a great many people know that name," he drawled.

The potions in her bag clinked as she dropped it on the ground, pressing her now-free forearm against his throat and surprising him with her strength. Her off hand began to glimmer with the suggestion of magicka even as her voice stayed level. "They don't know to connect it with me. They shouldn't, anyway. Especially not the Nords in Windhelm. Answer me. _How do you know that?"_

Sanguine raised his eyebrows. She was intense, but given the general attitude she'd been alluding to of the Nords in Windhelm, perhaps that wasn't surprising. "I'm the Daedric Prince of lust and greed, and I want to learn how to write porn from someone who knows what she's doing."

Sultris gaped at him, staring in nonplussed shock for the second time that day. The magicka in her hand guttered out as she lost concentration.

Sanguine looked down at her and blinked slowly.

Sultris opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it. After a few more moments, she shook her head, less an action of disbelief and more to express that she could not think of a single thing to say.

Sanguine cocked his head to the side, regarding her. "Look, let's just assume you're dreaming. It'll make things easier on all accounts."

Sultris had to move her mouth a few times before anything would come out. "This... er... on... what accounts?"

He shrugged. "We can go somewhere more comfortable, we can skip the part where I waste twenty minutes explaining what's going on, you can teach me whatever I've been missing about how to write porn, and you're much more likely to want to fuck me before six. Sound like a plan?"

She blinked at him, not quite processing everything. Somehow she latched on to one specific part of his list and glanced at the battered pocketwatch she had in one of her dress pockets. "It's only just past five thirty," she said, a tad faintly.

Sanguine grinned. "I'll take that as a yes, then." So saying, he took hold of the arm she was still holding near his throat and summoned them to one of his realms, letting her basest desires and indulgences dictate what should appear in it. When he blinked his vision clear of the summoning vortex, he looked around the room and then down at Sultris in approval. "You have good taste."

The room was large and decadent, full of rich fabrics and lush, dark colors. Torches were set evenly on the walls, and a fire glowed softly in the hearth opposite the bed, which itself was large enough for five people, never mind two. A table to the side was adorned with bowls of fruit, plates of bread and meat, and bottles of wine; Sultris, in a bit of a daze, wandered over and began eating grapes one by one. Sanguine sat on the bed, watching Sultris move about.

The Dunmer's hands wandered over the items on the table, until she moved on to hover over the various other signifiers of wealth. "Is this... where did this come from?" she asked quietly. Sanguine thought he heard something else in that question, but he wasn't really in the mood for analytical social commentary.

"Your head," he told her.

She threw him a sharp glance. "I am dreaming, then, or mad?"

He shrugged. "Nah, if you were mad I'd be offering you cheese and speaking in an Irish accent, making absolutely no sense."

Sultris stared at him, expression opaque, for a long moment, then burst into uncontrolled laughter. "Oh, oh! I must be only one-third mad then; you already make no sense! To hell with it," she said, and took a long draught from the glass of wine on the table next to her. "Where did I get this from?"

"Never mind," he said. "Why the sudden change?"

She finished the glass and set it down, where it quietly stopped existing. "It's like this, see. On the one hand-" She held up an open hand, palm flat and facing up. "-I could be incredibly terrified, assume you're going to either rape me, beat me, kill me, or all three, because you're a Nord who's taken me to a strange and unfamiliar place, I can't figure out how to leave, and I live in Windhelm. But I doubt that would get either of us anywhere, since you claim to be a Daedric Prince and if you really are going to do anything awful to me, I probably can't stop you."

Sanguine conceded that point with a nod of his head. "Although that's not really my area of expertise."

"Regardless. On the other hand, you said you wanted to learn how to write porn, and I can help with that. And the thing that makes me really feel okay with all this - including this idea you have that I'm going to have sex with you, don't think I missed that - is that I've just noticed there are wrist and ankle restraints attached to that bed."

Sanguine leaned back and raised his eyebrows. "Would you feel better if I was in them? I'm all for coherence, from you. At least for now."

She looked at him shrewdly. "Are you okay with that?"

"If you don't mind me being aroused by it."

Sultris came closer and started helping Sanguine fit the leather snugly around his wrists and ankles. "Given your general 'area of expertise', is there anything you're _not_ aroused by?"

"That depends on your definition of ‘anything’,” Sanguine said, getting a snort of laughter from Sultris. He tested the straps and found a little give, but not much. Enough flexibility to hint at freedom, and enough resistance to make his breath catch. Sultris noticed, and raised an eyebrow, stepping back. He shrugged.

“So,” she said, leaning back on the table and crossing her arms. “Where do you want to start? What do you want to know?”

Sanguine licked his lips. “Uh… everything?” he tried.

Sultris rolled her eyes. “Have you ever written anything before?”

“No?”

Sultris sighed. “Okay. That’s not my problem. Learning to write takes a lifetime, and you’ll never stop learning. It also takes a certain talent and passion that some people just don’t have.”

“Trust me, I have talent and passion,” Sanguine said, smirking.

“What are you, fifteen?”

“I have been.”

Sultris considered this, then wrinkled her nose. “You mean - ew.”

“Better than…. Anyway, please continue.”

“Right. So there are plenty of books on how to write a book, and obviously you should spend a lot of time reading and writing. You’ll get better with practice, everyone does. Also, don’t ever think that you’ve learned everything there is, or that there’s nothing wrong with your writing, or that - any of that. Okay, writing lessons over. You want something more in-depth, attend an actual class or something. Not my problem.

“Porn can be… different from writing about something mundane, or even about something fantastic. I mean, different cultures have their own taboos, but for the most part sex is private. I’m not sure if that will be an issue for you, but when a group of friends and I started out doing this, only two of us actually made it through writing anything remotely lurid.”

Sanguine gave her a flat look. “Are you my tutor now?”

The look Sultris returned was equally skeptical. “I thought you wanted to learn.”

Sanguine sat up as much as he could with his arms pinned down. “I thought it would be fun. This is boring.”

“So why are you doing this, really?” Sultris said, dropping down into a fluffy armchair. “If you don’t like hearing about writing, you’re not going to like writing. It sounds more like you just like sex, and you like the idea of writing porn because you like porn.”

“I do like porn,” Sanguine pointed out. “And I’m naturally suited to it, right?”

Sultris just shook her head. “But apparently you’re dead-set on it. Seems like you’d be better suited as the subject material instead of the-” She stopped and blinked, then smirked a bit at nothing in particular. “Well, I guess that could work.” She looked at him fully. “So here’s the thing. I have a deal with the Argonian who binds the first copies of my books; he gets a cut of the money made from selling them. But we do this on a regular basis, and I don’t know how much more I can get out of my main character in the way of anything new.”

“You could let me have a shot at it,” Sanguine offered.

“He’s fictional,” Sultris said with a strange look.

“I don’t see the problem.”

She paused. “Daedric. Right. Look, the point is, I need material and you need a writer. Why don’t I start publishing the ongoing erotic tales of Sanguine, and you show up every so often and regale me with your exploits? I’m sure you’d have no trouble with it,” she added with a pointed look.

He laughed, and let the movement carry down to his hips, watching as her eyes followed. “Of course, like any good artist, you’d want to test the quality of your….” He trailed off. “Look, can we just fuck?”

She snorted in something that could have been humor and rode the edge of bitterness. "That didn't take long." Sanguine gave her a confused look, wondering what she'd been expecting and why it had gone downhill so suddenly.

Sultris looked weary and indistinctly disappointed. "It's not you," she explained shortly. "I don't want sex. With anyone. Ever. Yes, I've tried it. Yes, with men and women. Yes, with whatever hedge-magick remedy you're going to suggest. Yes, I know I'll never find a partner. No, writing about sex isn't and hasn't ruined my perception of it. Yes, I know there's something wrong-"

"I don't care," Sanguine interrupted her.

"-with - what?" Sultris had closed her eyes during her defeated rant, and now opened them to stare at Sanguine.

"I didn't find you to fuck you, I just thought it'd be fun to do that too. I am not the Madgod, young mortal, child of Azura's due. I am not the Huntsman or the Harvester, to delight in chasing what does not want to be caught. I want _your_ collapse to indulgence, not an ideal that includes inhibiting your own desires to the purpose of some other."

"Somehow, I don't think I should find that as reassuring as I do," Sultris muttered, then said, louder and wry, "Did you make all that up just now? Very eloquent."

Sanguine said nothing. What he’d said was true; beyond which, she would have to want to be convinced out of the silly reasons she'd learned for not doing whatever she liked, and that was always harder with reasonable people.

“Tell me a story, then,” Sultris said, and sat at the desk across the room, a sheaf of paper and a quill at hand. “Let's see what I can make of it.”


End file.
